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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782588">Hellbender Turbulence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukenceto/pseuds/ukenceto'>ukenceto</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love beyond the bones [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gears of War (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:26:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782588</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukenceto/pseuds/ukenceto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The world he hadn't thought he'd see again has changed, but what else can Marcus do aside from carry on? </p>
<p>They're now Delta Squad. They survived, launched the Lightmass Offensive. </p>
<p>But what's next? </p>
<p>He has to admit, the answer is surprising...</p>
<p>(Set post GOW1. Focusing on Marcus and Baird's relationship )</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Damon Baird/Marcus Fenix</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love beyond the bones [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1025247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Damn man, hot water sure feels good after all that.”</p><p>Dom’s voice echoed slightly in the large bathroom, though Marcus had to admit his excitement was not without merit.</p><p>“Yeah…” He just muttered back, standing under the spray; he’d already cleaned up, but was more than reluctant to leave.</p><p>Despite that every cut and scratch and bruise on him stung when the water hit it, and his sore muscles could barely keep him upright, he damn near felt like falling asleep right then and there. The water was finally washing away near two days’ worth of fatigue and battle gore, and a few more days of prison to top that off.</p><p>He wasn’t even sure how long exactly it had been, since he was left all alone in that cell. His food had finished up a few days ago, the water – the previous night. He truly hadn’t thought there’d be anything more than death waiting for him, but, seemed like faith had other plans.</p><p>Dom had come back for him.</p><p>And as much as it seemed like Hoffman would’ve rather let him die after the mission was over, he had made it through after all.</p><p>They all had, the flight to Jacinto being a rather quiet ordeal.</p><p>He was fine with quiet, preferred it even. Aside from a congratulatory lancer bump, even Baird had fallen silent – something he didn’t expect, considering the man literally babbled on right under siege and a barge of bullets, but Marcus supposed everyone had their limits.</p><p>The armor had weighted on his shoulders more than it had in years, and he’d barely been able to stay awake during the long trip to base, to the city.</p><p>He’d watched through half-lidded eyes as Cole had bandaged up Baird’s forearm, the man biting out a curse between clenched teeth as his friend had thoroughly cleaned up the rather nasty gash. Aside from that, they’d all gotten away with nothing serious, if of course the bruising and utter exhaustion wasn’t weighted in.</p><p>Putting a hand on the left side of his chest, he hissed quietly as pain bloomed on through his ribcage. Most likely nothing broken, but maybe there was at least one crack.</p><p>“You gonna be ok?” Concern sounded in Dom’s voice, making him finally look to the side at his friend. “Maybe we should hit up the doc, yeah?”</p><p>“Nah, I’ll be fine. Go on without me if you need to though.” He saw that Dom had already turned off the water and was drying himself up. But Marcus still felt reluctant to leave the warmth of the shower behind, much preferring it to anything else that was surely about to need his presence or attention soon.</p><p>Getting pardoned, or in general written back to active duty wasn’t as simple as donning on the armor again. There was going to be paperwork…</p><p>“As you say. But don’t get lost, this place is a maze since we’ve started housing more people.” Dom pulled on a clean shirt from his open locker, before holding out a small blue rectangle – Marcus could make out the COG’s seal on it. “Oh, and I’m leaving you my meal card if you’re going to the cafeteria. You’ll need it, at least until they get you one of your own.”</p><p>“They really tightened things up here, huh.” Cranking his neck from side to side, Marcus tried to relieve some of the tension that had seized his shoulders. “You gonna be okay without it though?”</p><p>“Yeah, a lot of stuff’s changed since you were… well, you know. And don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” Dom definitely looked more lively after the shower, though he’d always been the energetic type. “You can grab some clothes too, just lock this up before you go.”</p><p>“Someone would help themselves to that too, huh?” Marcus cocked an eyebrow, though it shouldn’t have surprised him, especially not after four years spent in the slammer. People were willing to snag up even the smallest thing. “I’ll keep it in mind.”</p><p>“Come to my dorm after, it’s the same room as before. I’m guessing sleeping arrangements will be yet another thing you’ll have to get settled soon.” With that and one last nod his way, Dom went out.</p><p>“Sure…” Sighing, Marcus just took a deep breath, not minding the humid air all around.</p><p>His head was buzzing with echoes of gunfire and the locust’s screeches and battle cries; explosions still had his hearing numbed, not to mention the wail of metal as the train derailed in the end.</p><p>Above that noise, his thoughts spiraled on lazily, unable to settle on anything specific for a long while.</p><p>He busied himself with thoroughly washing out his bandana, making sure the cloth didn’t hold any dried up blood.</p><p>Finally out of excuses to stay under the water any longer, he switched off the faucets, the air in the room cooling off rapidly enough to make goosebumps rise up on his skin.</p><p>Doing a quick work of drying himself up and dressing, he considered what to do next. Food sounded about right, though he wasn’t sure if he felt like accidentally meeting any familiar faces.</p><p>Not like he could avoid the rumors forever, but he truly didn’t have the patience nor the energy for dealing with them now.</p><p>The clock on the wall told him it was dinner time after all, and the place was likely to be packed.</p><p>One couldn’t say he wasn’t pragmatic though. Pocketing up Dom’s card, he shut the locker, turning the wheel combination; Dom still used the date he and Maria had gotten married on.</p><p>“Some things haven’t changed then…” He muttered to himself, before walking away.</p><p>The building was large and maze-like indeed; but despite a new coat of paint and several signs that hadn’t been there the last time he was, it wasn’t too difficult to remember the right way to go.</p><p>The mess hall buzzed with noise even from a distance, the short corridor near it guarded by a couple of gears.</p><p>“Wait, that card ain’t yours.” One of them remarked, despite that he’d barely glanced at the inside of the little foldable meal card.</p><p>“I’m still waiting for mine to get processed. I’m borrowing this one.” Crossing his arms, Marcus stared at the gear, wishing he’d finally drop it.</p><p>The man seemed unconvinced, but after the other guard bumped his shoulder, he shrugged and returned the card to Marcus.</p><p>“Whatever, go on.” Finally letting him pass, though Marcus wasn’t blind to the dirty look he shot him.</p><p>The place really was crowded as hell, though he didn’t linger, simply took up a tray and lined up after the other few people who were still waiting for their turn.</p><p>Once he got his cut, Marcus finally glanced around, trying to see if there was a free spot anywhere.</p><p>“Yo Marcus, over here!” Cole’s voice sounded above the chatter, and Marcus quickly found him seated near one of the tables to the far wall. The person sitting across of him turned at that, and despite the people between them, Marcus spotted Baird’s characterizing nearly white-blonde hair.</p><p>Making his way through the crowd, mindful of any elbows and extended feet, since chairs and tables were put closely enough to barely have a path between them, he finally reached the empty space on Baird’s left.</p><p>“Where’s Dom?” Cole asked in-between a mouthful of stew.</p><p>“I think he’s gone to the medic… Should be back soon though.” He answered, putting down his plate and sitting. Baird didn’t remark on his presence, seemingly too busy devouring his own food to heed him any mind.</p><p>“He okay?” Cole frowned, obviously concerned.</p><p>“Didn’t say anything was wrong to me.” In fact, Marcus was wondering if Dom had any plans to go to the medic at all. If anything, he’d wager he was elsewhere. Maybe checking up on his contacts about Maria – despite not getting any letters from him in those years, he didn’t doubt Dom still looked for her. From what he’d overheard in his conversation with Franklin, he was still going above and beyond in the means of finding her.</p><p>“Can’t say he’s missing out on much.” Baird huffed, and Marcus watched him carefully soak up the last bits of sauce in his plate.</p><p>“I can see that.” He shook his head, before picking up his own fork.</p><p>“Hey, I’m hungry. And after that stranded crap, which – may I remind that you two assholes urged me on to eat – even this tastes better.” Baird then moved onto his desert, an expression of near reverence crossing his features. It was apple slices with granola, though admittedly Marcus was surely feeling grateful for fresh fruits too.</p><p>“Don’t mind him baby, he just has a sensitive stomach.” Cole chuckled, making Marcus huff out an amused sigh in turn. He couldn’t remember the last time his own stomach had disagreed with anything, even the prison food.</p><p>“My stomach is just fine, it’s you two that just ain’t right.” Baird scrunched up his nose in disgust. “You saw they were eating damn rats, like, for fuck’s sake what did you think they’d put in that pot.”</p><p>“A man can hope baby.” Cole shrugged before digging in his own dessert, seemingly unbothered by the topic of the conversation.</p><p>Marcus nearly tuned out then, the steady noise in the cafeteria becoming a bit much for his tired mind; the food tasted well in his opinion, maybe a bit overly salty. He’d definitely had much worse, plus it was warm so as far as bonuses went…</p><p>And then, he froze.</p><p>At first, he didn’t even realize it, didn’t know why – but his brain was quick to catch on, even now, even with all the exhaustion. Baird’s leg had pressed up against his, the intense warmth of his thigh meeting his own.</p><p>Head snapping to the side, he opened his mouth but before the words formed for him to speak, he heard Baird’s annoyed chiding.</p><p>“Hey asshole, I’m still eating here.” He was turned to the side, waving his fork in the air – Marcus saw another gear had come to the table, and sat on the edge of the bench, effectively pushing everyone even closer together.</p><p>“Well I sure as fuck ain’t gonna eat standing up, so squeeze in a lil’, blonde.” The man bit back, setting his plate down with more force than strictly necessary.</p><p>“I’mma give you a squeeze, alright—“ There were still a couple of people between them, but Baird looked about ready to jump over to the unknown gear.</p><p>“Damon, drop it, come on.” Cole sounded more serious than usual, and Marcus watched the effect his words had on Baird, who frowned but seemingly deflated in an instant.</p><p>“He started it.” Baird pointed out, still looking annoyed.</p><p>“And you’re ending it, there’s no point to bicker over stupid stuff.” Cole had finished his own food, but leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Eat up and we can finally go pass out or something.”</p><p>“Yeah, whatever.” Baird did get back to his food, though his leg remained planted firmly against Marcus’ own.</p><p>He felt ridiculous, because his body seemed unable to decide on how he felt like in that specific moment. Yeah, it had been years since he had any casual contact with another human, one that didn’t involve the infliction of pain; but even so.</p><p>It was… pleasant.</p><p>Looking down at his half-finished plate, he focused back on eating, pretending nothing was wrong. There was no space on his end to move away in, and he didn’t want to actually.</p><p>A whole lot of other thoughts were running in his head now, the kind that had from the very moment he’d laid eyes on Baird; when they’d sized each other up in that bloody tomb, the blonde walking up to him as if he were looking for a fight.</p><p>As if he had something to prove, to challenge Marcus for.</p><p>Realizing that it maybe wasn’t that far off the mark, had come more gradually.</p><p>They fought rather well together, and thankfully Baird did listen to what he was told to do – or surely neither of them would’ve come out of that mission alive. He’d proved useful, up to the point that Marcus was glad to have him on the team, despite the constant chatter; and yet, Dom and Cole had cut a bit too close with their quip.</p><p>Marcus kept finding the need within himself to rise up to Baird’s challenge, especially in ways that meant outright teasing him in turn – how had those two put it then, yeah – ‘like two assholes on their first date’.</p><p>He’d wanted to say that’s ridiculous, but realized he was actually having fun, in some abysmal sort of way considering their situation. Baird seemed to try so hard to appear tough and menacing, but he’d shown concern for them pretty quickly when things had gone tough.</p><p>The fact that he was rather easy on the eyes too, didn’t help dispel Marcus’ thoughts.</p><p>Glancing at him from the corner of his eye, he noted that Baird cleaned up rather nicely; of course, he’d showered too, but despite the dark circles under his eyes and the spider line-thin ricochet scratches on his skin, he’d shaved his five-o-clock, making his face seem lit up from that alone. His hair nearly gleamed in the warm light of the room, that seemingly perpetual half-smirk in place as he discussed some unknown to Marcus event with Cole.</p><p>Up this close, despite the various food around them, he could smell a faint touch of soap and even something that was probably an aftershave coming from Baird’s skin.</p><p>Closing his eyes briefly, Marcus swallowed hard. Reaching for his glass of water, he downed its contents in one go, realizing he had to derail that train of thought, and do it soon.</p><p>He had been away from people who didn’t mean him harm in far too long indeed. And away from anyone’s company in much, much longer.</p><p>Baird was making a long-buried want rise up within him, one that left him hungry in a way nothing else could sate. Sure, he’d done well enough with killing, the red-hot barrel of his lancer mowing down their enemies, the rush of coming out of any battle alive surely undeniable – adrenaline and its response did its thing, it was nearly the same to the primal side of him, the animal side.</p><p>Survival’s own kind of high.</p><p>But he hadn’t wanted anyone in such a way for so long, he’d damn near forgotten what that felt like.</p><p>The desperation, the need, as if he could not breathe without making sure it was sated first. There were some that had caught his eye, a sense of familiarity he couldn’t quite look away from, something he’d entertain a thought or two about, but it was never strong enough to prompt him to act, to take the risk.</p><p>And yet here was Baird, who’d done little but try and antagonize him ever since they met, barely even looking his way, but managing to leave up Marcus in such a state. There was nothing familiar in him, nothing he’d had been subconsciously looking for this time around.</p><p>But it had taken few hours of them fighting side by side to make him want to slam Baird against the nearest flat surface and fuck him senseless, to want to hear every curse and moan that would escape his lips at that.</p><p>Clearing out the last food on his plate, Marcus stood up abruptly, tray in hands.</p><p>“Goin’ already?” Cole’s voice made him look up, and he nodded at him absentmindedly.</p><p>“Think I need to lay down, yeah.” Not sparing another look in Baird’s direction, Marcus stepped away from the bench, knowing it was better that he got away now.</p><p>Maybe all he needed was to sleep it off. Morning’s wiser and all that.</p><p>But if the tension coiling in his stomach was any indication, tonight had been only the beginning.</p><p> </p><p>***</p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In your life you'll be amazed<br/>At all the love you lose<br/>You can never live that life again<br/> * * *</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Buttoning his shirt back on, he shifted uncomfortably, the paper sheet underneath him crinkling with the motion.</p>
<p>Dr. Hayman didn’t look up from the folder she had on her desk, her pen scribbling over in curt strokes.</p>
<p>“Well?” She finally looked up at him over her glasses. “Do I have to say you’re dismissed? There’s other people waiting.”</p>
<p>“I thought…” Marcus got up, though a glance to the door didn’t reveal a shadow on the other side of the frosted glass. The corridor had been empty when he’d come earlier. “Are my test results back?”</p>
<p>“Not yet.” She returned her attention to the file, this time closing it and going to put it away in a long cabinet. “I wouldn’t bet on it being here sooner than two weeks. The lab is busy, they can’t prioritize every convict’s bloodwork.”</p>
<p>Her tone was acrid, and she nearly spat out the word – he was certain, she’d probably say rat in the same way.</p>
<p>“It was a week already.” He muttered, though when that didn’t prompt a response, it became clear that he wasn’t going to get one. “Fine then. I’ll go.”</p>
<p>Picking up his jacket from the chair he’d left it on, he went out without another look at the woman.</p>
<p>There were a couple of Gears idling in the corridor, though neither seemed in a particular hurry to get in after him.</p>
<p>Marcus passed them by quietly, lost in thought.</p>
<p>He was supposed to join on a patrol with Dom later in the evening, but for the moment he had free time.</p>
<p>There was not much to be done with it however.</p>
<p>He’d already settled back into the routine of a Gear, and all his paperwork was processed – aside from his medical clearance. Until that happened,  he wouldn’t be able to donate blood, plasma or in the worst case scenario, organs for others in need.</p>
<p>It also had him on edge.</p>
<p>He still remembered Hayman’s words the first time they’d met; the thinly veiled disgust as she noted there was a whole plethora of disease he could’ve caught in the Slab.</p>
<p>Despite getting his mandatory shots, her attitude towards him hadn’t changed since.</p>
<p>Hand trailing down the side of his face, he’d reached for his scar without realizing. He’d made it through prison, yeah, but not without spilling blood and getting open wounds.</p>
<p>He was worried.</p>
<p>Even though statistically his chances of dying from a bullet were much higher than anything else, disease was not something he wanted to add on his rep list too.</p>
<p>Sighing, he reminded himself that there was little point in worrying now. More or less, the lot of them had some reprieve by the locust; there hadn’t been any sightings since the Lightmass Offensive, although everyone remained on edge and the troops were on high alert.</p>
<p>Anya had told him that CIC still tracked seismic activity throughout Sera, and even without direct sightings, it was clear that something was brewing underneath the surface.</p>
<p>And his guts told him that it was unlikely they’d gotten away so easily.</p>
<p>Even if had been anything but easy, gathering the data and deploying that strike, Marcus had his hackles raised ever since he’d returned to Jacinto.</p>
<p>Unfriendly staff notwithstanding, there was something which bothered him, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly it was just yet.</p>
<p>As he made his way towards the barracks, he wondered if it wasn’t just everything in general that made him feel so, rather than some isolated event.</p>
<p>He was sleeping worse than usual, although that was to be expected after getting back into the fray.</p>
<p>Dom still hadn’t brought up his time in the Slab, despite that Marcus wouldn’t expect he of all people to walk on eggshells around him; and yet, he couldn’t but agree that four years had passed. That could change a lot.</p>
<p>Opening the door to his room, he glanced at the small space: a cot, his armor and weapons on the rack, a small sink and a cabinet. His clothes, his personal items, everything he owned could fit in that space.</p>
<p>He didn’t mind. Certainly beat a cell.</p>
<p>As a Sergeant, he’d gotten a room he didn’t have to share with others. It was probably for the better, with how fickle his sleep was, and he wasn’t meant to do much else in it than that.</p>
<p>But at times, it definitely felt like something was missing.</p>
<p>Folding the jacket, he put it back with the rest of his clothes, before opening one of the smaller compartments of the night stand.</p>
<p>A neat row of syringes and vials greeted him, along with a halved pack of antiseptic gauze.</p>
<p>Rolling down the hem of his cargos, he cleaned a spot before picking up a vial and breaking off the cap.</p>
<p>The clear liquid was just enough to fit the syringe, and he grit his teeth before plunging the needle all the way down.</p>
<p>Pulling it back out with a light hiss, he froze when a knock sounded on the door.</p>
<p>Throwing the used syringe in the bin, he pulled his pants back in place and went to open the door.</p>
<p>“Baird.” He said, surprised at the face which he saw on the other end. Of all people…</p>
<p>“Yeah.” The blonde tilted his head with a grin. “Happy to see me?”</p>
<p>“What is it?” He asked instead, uncertain as to the unusual visit. From what he knew, Baird was spending the time between patrols in the motor pool. Marcus hadn’t seen him more than a handful of times anywhere outside the mess hall.</p>
<p>“It’s… a bit of a sensitive matter.” Quickly glancing to both sides, Baird looked back at him. “Would be better if you’d let me in.”</p>
<p>“Okay…” He was completely confused now. There wasn’t much the two had talked about so far, and Marcus really couldn’t fathom a reason Baird would have for visiting him now of all times.</p>
<p>Still, he moved to the side, letting him come in before closing the door.</p>
<p>The space seemed even smaller now, with both of them in it.</p>
<p>Baird was wearing a pair of navy blue overalls, stained with grease on the knees. He still had his tool belt on him too, along with the goggles on his head. Marcus had thought Cole was joking when he’d mentioned Baird basically sleeping with those things on, but he wasn’t so certain of late.</p>
<p>Surely, he hadn’t seen him with them off so far either.</p>
<p>“So.” He crossed his arms, watching as Baird did a quick check up on the room, and his general lack of personal belongings.</p>
<p>“Didn’t put you as the kind.” Baird huffed, though Marcus followed his gaze to the open bedside cabinet and the vials in it.</p>
<p>“It’s vitamins.” He said in a low tone, not entirely certain if Baird’s insinuation was a joke or not.</p>
<p>“What I’d expect you to say.” Pushing the cabinet closed, Baird looked back at him with an unreadable expression.</p>
<p>“Didn’t get much sunlight in prison. And not only.” Marcus shrugged, realizing he felt like making his case. “Doc Hayman gave them to me.”</p>
<p>“Mm… So she gave you those, but not your blood results.” Baird picked that moment to reveal the hand he was holding behind his back until now, and more specifically – the beige folder in it.</p>
<p>“What is this.” Marcus frowned, suddenly wary of whatever game Baird was playing.</p>
<p>“Relax, I haven’t peeped in.” Walking the short distance between them, Baird taped the folder against Marcus’ chest. “But Hayman is a bitch. You ain’t the only one she’s been like this to either.”</p>
<p>“She’s a doctor, what do you…” Still, Marcus took the folder from him, and leafed through it quickly. “And how do you even know about this?”</p>
<p>“I was fixing some stuff in her office, heard what she told you today.” Baird hadn’t moved away, though his words seemed void of the usual bite and bile. “Some things take me longer to fix. I saw her toss this a few days ago, the moment she took a glance at it.”</p>
<p>“So you dug through trash to investigate?” Marcus raised a brow, though he kept reading. It was his name on the front page, as well as his blood group and COG tag number.</p>
<p>“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘thanks’?” Baird crossed his arms in an exasperated manner. “It was suspicious, and she left shortly after. I took a look.”</p>
<p>“Maybe there’s been some error.” Marcus hummed, eyes still scanning the values on the pages. He was no doctor, but nothing seemed particularly amiss, and there were no big letter stamping some sort of a warning or another.</p>
<p>“She gave you the vitamins based on something.” Baird bumped his elbow at his arm, and Marcus finally glanced back at him. “Plus, I took a look through your records. She’s already marked you as clear on the tests for all the worrying stuff.”</p>
<p>“You went through my medical records?” He wasn’t sure what to think, between Baird’s accusations of Hayman and his own doings.</p>
<p>“Only because of this.” Baird rolled his eyes at him, before looking away. “Anyways, I thought you might’ve wanted to know sooner rather than let her string you on for weeks. Sorry for caring, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Fine, just— why would she do this?” Marcus certainly was relieved to know that nothing was wrong, if Baird was indeed correct. But he still couldn’t figure out the rest.</p>
<p>“Um, as I said, because she’s a bitch? You ever looked at her wrong in the past or something? Dunno.” Baird’s lip curled in displeasure. “Or the fact that you were in prison. I’ve also caught her picking on the Gorasni. At this point I tell them to go to a doctor on the other end of town, if they want to be treated fairly.”</p>
<p>“So what do I do about this.” Marcus closed the folder, finger running over the COG stamp on it.</p>
<p>“Keep it as a souvenir? Just don’t tell anyone I got it to you.” Stepping back, Baird met his eyes again. “She won’t change, at this point. And I think the brass like her, so best stay out of trouble.”</p>
<p>“You fix stuff for her, so she likes you in turn?” Marcus let his arms drop, though he still gripped the folder, a sort of a resigned anger smoldering inside him. He hadn’t done anything to get on Hayman’s bad side, but he guessed it was just another thing to add to the shitpile he had to deal with now.</p>
<p>“She tolerates me, as she would a carrier pigeon. Like is a strong word.” Baird’s voice returned to his usual level of sarcastic undertone. “For the record, I go to the Gorasni doc too, when I need to. That should tell you enough as is.”</p>
<p>“Suppose… I should thank you, then.” Marcus’s voice was low, though he did mean it. He wouldn’t have expected Baird to go out of his way for him, not with something like this at least. But it wasn’t all he had to say on the matter. “You gather any more personal information for me while you were at it?”</p>
<p>“As I said, a thank you would’ve been enough.” Shaking his head, Baird stepped towards the door. “I do know why you don’t like dogs now, but nothing else, cross my heart. Including whatever you did to end up in that place to begin with.”</p>
<p>Before Marcus could retort with anything to that, Baird opened the door and left, striding down the corridor angrily.</p>
<p>Marcus did find himself mad about the breach of privacy, yeah; but the tone of Baird’s words had stung the most. He hadn’t expected him to care as to the why Marcus had been in the Slab, or more like it, he’d expected Baird to already know the rumors.</p>
<p>It’s not like Marcus would’ve opened up and told the story otherwise. But maybe now, Baird did think the worst of him.</p>
<p>Throwing the folder on the cabinet, Marcus sat down, resting his elbows on his knees.</p>
<p>Why did he care, what Baird did or did not think.</p>
<p>It’s not like it mattered.</p>
<p>Not like Baird would look at him the way Marcus had wanted him to, and it had been stupid to wonder if his visit held more than what had transpired so far.</p>
<p>For all he knew, Baird cared for his own wellbeing – with Marcus as part of Delta, he and Cole would be in direct contact with him on more than one occasion. He’d likely wanted to know that Marcus wasn’t sick with something that could spread via blood, especially with the amount of open injuries they sustained in battle.</p>
<p>Well, now they both had their answer, and Marcus could just move on past this. Hayman would clear him officially eventually as well. Regardless of her motivations, she couldn’t stall such matters on forever.</p>
<p>Laying back on his cot with arms crossed behind his head, Marcus stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.</p>
<p>Sorrow was fast approaching, and he’d already felt the scent of snow in the cold winter air outside. All the more reason why his head was becoming a mess. It always would, around this time. As if he could ever forget this kind of loss.</p>
<p>Turning to his side, he closed his eyes, trying to will himself to get some rest before his shift came up. He had to remain sharp while patrolling, despite the temporary time out.</p>
<p>Even if not for the locust, the stranded were still out there. Their raids usually worsened with the cold, although he could hardly blame them for it.</p>
<p>Dom had said more and more stranded joined the COG, faced with the inevitability of famine in the long years of the war, choosing to armor up and fight rather than die out there without proper food or shelter.  </p>
<p>But even that hadn’t been enough, considering Hoffman’s decision with the Slab.</p>
<p>Marcus wondered, how many of his fellow inmates now walked the same streets he did, shared the same barracks. And what that could mean a few more months down the road.</p>
<p>He supposed only time would tell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<hr/><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The smoke stung against the back of his throat, tangy, heavy in the cool winter air.</p><p>He took another deep drag, the cigarette tip momentarily lighting up against the dark sky.</p><p>It had been a long while since he last indulged into something like this, the tobacco calling back memories, a bittersweet longing unfit for a time like this.</p><p>The cacophony of noise coming from the bar was muted, though it still reverberated in his head, a testament of one too many drinks.</p><p>Dom had left earlier, but Marcus had needed to stay. To wash down the feelings threatening to come up from a dark place in his mind, swallow them before they got to choke him.</p><p>His friend had known better than to discourage him, especially today.</p><p>It was unspoken thing between them, the date bringing enough significance than neither felt the need to mention it out in the open.</p><p>The color caught his eye first, a barely-there velvet hue tucked away between the buildings.</p><p>Stepping closer somewhat unsteadily, he found himself in front of the open space, a patch of ground that was too small to be a garden; and yet several shrubs grew in it, the leaves browned by the frost.</p><p>But the flowers were still there, still blooming: roses the color of blood.</p><p>For a long time, he couldn’t do more but watch, the heavy feeling he’d tried so hard to push away rising in his chest again, pain that made his eyes sting.</p><p>Dropping the cigarette which had burned out to a short stub, he dug in his pocket until he found his knife.</p><p>Unfolding the blade, he quickly cut several of the flowers, absentmindedly noting that one of the thorns cut his thumb.</p><p>Grasping the stems in his hand, he looked around, momentarily disoriented by the bright streetlights.</p><p>Finding the sign which pointed to Redwing Square had him turn the opposite way, down the long street which ended up near the Allfathers Library.</p><p>But that wasn’t his destination.</p><p>His breath rose in clouds around him as the temperature dropped down further, the clear night turning frigid enough to have him pull the sides of his jacket closer.</p><p>The asphalt still swung lightly underneath his feet, but there were no tremors running through the ground, nothing to make him think of the enemy which was still somewhere out there, in the darkness surrounding the city, in the caves beneath the surface.</p><p>Putting one foot in front of the other, again and again almost lulled his thoughts in some mindless rhythm, until he heard it; a low shout, followed by the sound of glass breaking.</p><p>Head snapping in the direction of the sound, he saw several figures in an alleyway, an obvious fight by the looks of it.</p><p>Although an unfair one, if he counted the direction of attack.</p><p>Hesitating only for a second, he left the flowers on the ground before striding over to the alleyway, realizing he didn’t quite care as to why those strangers were fighting. But he was going to be a part of it very soon.</p><p>His footsteps got their attention, and the five people froze, looking at him with startled expressions.</p><p>Or well, one of them certainly did, and Marcus found himself mirroring that look.</p><p>Baird’s lip was bleeding, his hands grasping against the meaty forearm one of the other men had pressed up against his throat.</p><p>He was caught between him and the wall, while the rest surrounded him, various junk littering the ground around them.</p><p>It took him a moment to take the scene in, and then he was moving before he could think, a grimace twisting his features.</p><p>He’d wanted to hit something all night, and now he definitely found a reason to.</p><p>Lunging at the guy who was holding Baird down, Marcus crashed against him with all his weight, the element of the surprise on his side as the man lost his balance and fell down hard.</p><p>Marcus heard his head hit the pavement with an unpleasant noise, but he was already on the move, slamming his fist against the man’s face, feeling his nose breaking.</p><p>Hands fisted at the back of his jacket, but Marcus snapped his head up, while thrusting his elbow back, catching it in the other assailant’s gut.  </p><p>That gave him the leeway to move away before the man got a better grip of him, and he rolled to the side before getting up.</p><p>He could see that Baird hadn’t remained idle at the chance he’d been given, and was currently thrusting his knee into the face of the third guy, gripping his hair with a yell.</p><p>And that’s where the fourth asshole came in.</p><p>Specifically, his fist colliding with Marcus’ jaw hard enough to make his head snap, his ears ringing; he almost lost his balance at the force of the hit.</p><p>Heat spilled over his lips, rivulets of blood dripping from his nose.</p><p>Baring his teeth, Marcus lunged forward again, knowing it wasn’t what the man would expect him to do; his fists hitting the sides of the man’s torso, before he threw in an uppercut that made him collide with the wall.</p><p>The guy he’d tackled first was still on the ground, but as pain flared down his side, Marcus found the second one had gotten a heavy piece of broken pipe, and wasted no time before trying to make it meet Marcus’ head next.</p><p>He ducked, then gripped the middle of the pipe, pulling hard, succeeding in dislodging the man’s grip on it, as the lack of collision had made him unsteady.</p><p>Flipping it in his hand, Marcus brought it down hard against the guy’s face, dropping him to the ground.</p><p>Baird was punching away at the man against the wall, his fists coming up bloodied, until Marcus grabbed at the collar of his jacket.</p><p>“That’s enough Baird.” He said lowly, glancing around to make sure neither of the men were trying to get up again.</p><p>“Enough? You don’t get to tell me what’s enough now!” Baird had whipped his head back at him, almost in Marcus’ face, looking up at him, features twisted in rage.</p><p>He was still pushing the other guy against the wall, and this close, Marcus could see the dark bruises blooming over his brow and cheekbone.</p><p>“Well if you feel like getting shot ‘cause you end up killing that asshole, be my guest.” Throwing the pipe down, Marcus strode away, feeling his blood boil.</p><p>Baird had looked a second away from blowing up against him too, and honestly, Marcus wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t take him up on that right now, ready to fight him as well.</p><p>They’d been at each other’s throats a lot lately, and Baird had seemed hellbent on trying to antagonize him at every chance he got. He had a lot of patience, but a plethora of things tonight had shortened his fuse way too quickly.</p><p>“Oh yeah, sure, you got to be a hero again, got it!” Baird jeered after him. “Who cares why they wanted to turn me into a meat patty tonight, right?”</p><p>Sucking in a breath between his teeth, Marcus stopped walking.</p><p>The quick footsteps coming up behind him had him turn quickly, all instincts telling him to strike first.</p><p>“Might as well tell them you got that Embry Star now, to make sure they don’t mess with you next time they see you.” Baird spread his arms, his lip curling.  “But screw me, right?”  </p><p>He hit him before he could think better of it.</p><p>For the past few weeks, Baird had brought the damn thing enough times to notice it was somehow a weak spot for Marcus. Even Bernie had given him a piece of her mind for it.</p><p>But Baird was anything if not relentless, and finally he had his reward: he’d gotten Marcus to react, to rise up to his incessant taunting.</p><p>He froze, watching the cut in Baird’s lip start to bleed again.</p><p>Cursing quietly, he looked away, regret washing over him in waves.</p><p>It was like all the fight had drained out of him with that single hit, his shoulders slumping. He didn’t care if Baird retaliated, he didn’t plan to stop him from punching back either.</p><p>Grinding his teeth, he took in another deep breath, bracing himself.</p><p>When nothing happened, he looked up again, seeing Baird press against his lip with the back of his hand, his eyes burning.</p><p>He looked… embarrassed, or maybe even ashamed, something Marcus had never seen on him before.</p><p>“Whatever.” Baird mumbled out, walking past him, close enough to have their shoulders brush.</p><p>Marcus still couldn’t think of anything to say, throwing one last glance at the alleyway. Two of the men were rolling to the side, their pained groans filling the air, but neither seemed to want to take the risk and try to get up just yet.</p><p>Turning away, he saw Baird pick up the flowers he’d dropped to the ground before.</p><p>“Still got the thorns.” He huffed, giving Marcus a lopsided smirk.</p><p>What he did next, surprised him however.</p><p>“I might just come along and explain to whoever those are for why you’re such a bloody mess tonight.” Twirling the roses in his hand for a second, he handed them to Marcus, who took them without a word.</p><p>The street was empty, aside from a few parked cars around, most people staying indoors since it was well past curfew hour.</p><p>That was generally an exception for gears, but Marcus knew anyone who saw them would definitely look twice, considering all the blood between them.</p><p>And yet, as pain ached dully through him, he realized he wanted to keep walking, to reach the place he had planned to go to before this… detour.</p><p>So he did, walking down the sloped street silently.</p><p>True to his word, Baird followed beside him, hands in the pockets of his jacket.</p><p>Despite the alcohol still running in his system, the adrenaline of the fight hadn’t left a trace of the lazy swirl that had overwhelmed his thoughts, leaving the world around him sharper than it had been before he’d stepped foot in the bar tonight.</p><p>After a couple more miles of walking, he finally decided to ask.</p><p>“So were they trying to get back at you for something?” Thinking about it, he realized Baird probably made enemies quite easily. “Said something quirky to the wrong people?”</p><p>“Eh, something like that.” Baird shrugged his shoulders, keeping his eyes forward. He was atypically quiet, despite Marcus’ prompt that was meant to end the somewhat awkward tension hanging in the air between them.</p><p>“Must’ve been quite the thing. To come at you four against one.” He tried again, uncertain as to why he kept prodding the wound if Baird didn’t want to speak.</p><p>“More than badmouthing someone’s mother after a bar night, alright.” Huffing, Baird glanced around. “Where are we going, anyways? I thought we’d get back to the barracks. Hell, I didn’t think Anya lived somewhere in this part of town.”</p><p>“These aren’t for her.” Marcus said after a while, knowing however he worded it, Baird would get the wrong idea.</p><p>“Ooh?” The jeer was back, albeit a bit toned down, if that was even a word in Baird’s vocabulary. “Now that’s unexpected, the man of the hour has a side hustle.”  </p><p>“Drop it Baird, I’m not in the mood.” He sighed, beginning to regret that he hadn’t just told the blonde to fuck off earlier.</p><p>But admittedly, he had been a bit worried about him.</p><p>Nobody around dared attack gears aside from other gears, and since Baird was already shaken up, possibly meeting any more people he’d made enemies with wouldn’t have ended well.  </p><p>Even though Marcus had seen him fully able to hold his ground once he’d evened the odds. Maybe it had been the creeping guilt at having hurt him too, having lost his temper so obviously despite the excuse of the alcohol.</p><p>It was quite likely that Baird was just as wasted as he was, if his earlier comment was any indication.</p><p>“Okay, okay. I’m coming along so I guess I’ll find out…” Baird’s cheer faded abruptly, and Marcus looked to the side.</p><p>They had arrived.</p><p>The large, cast iron gate of the cemetery grounds threw heavy shadow on the ground.</p><p>Marcus pushed at the smaller door next to the gate, the one which was kept unlocked at all times.</p><p>Years ago, there were two gears in parade uniforms on each side, staring ahead like statues; lancers shouldered, shoes shined and all.</p><p>But that was then, and this was now.</p><p>A lone lamp post lit up the path on the other side, and ivy clung over the stone columns of the fence.</p><p>It was the only thing still green for miles around, Brume having barren the branches of the trees and frozen the ground.</p><p>Dry leaves and gravel crunched under his feet, the occasional sharp snap of a branch echoing in the frosty air.</p><p>Old grave stones were lined up by the path, patches of lichen growing over the faded stone.  </p><p>“I thought Jacinto’s central cemetery wasn’t in use for centuries now.” Baird said as they got closer to a new source of light.</p><p>Dozens of candles glowed in the dark, their flames flickering with the wind within the glass lanterns. A lone tree grew from an empty fountain, the roots disappearing into the cracked marble.</p><p>“It’s a place to mourn people whose graves are now gone.” Looking at the various slips of paper tied to the branches of the tree, Marcus held tighter onto the flowers in his hand. “And those who never got one.”</p><p>Coming to kneel next to the fountain, he left the roses against the tree trunk. A small stack of paper was held down by a bottle, and a short pencil laid next to it.</p><p>Not minding Baird, who had fallen quiet again, Marcus took a piece of paper and began writing the name on it, his hand unsteady.</p><p>The wind tried to take the slip of paper out of his grasp, but he folded it gently, before placing it underneath the flowers.</p><p>Resting a hand against the tree, he shut his eyes, letting the memories he’d pushed back at so hard resurface again.</p><p>Eventually, the sound of footsteps caught his attention, and he looked up.</p><p>Baird had walked to the small ornate alcove near the wall, and drank from the clear water that was running through it.</p><p>He brought his hands up next, washing away the blood from his knuckles and then his face.</p><p>Marcus sighed, watching him shiver slightly with the cold, droplets of water gleaming against his hairline.</p><p>Baird caught his eyes at that, and after a moment, rummaged around in his pockets, then came up with a folded cloth he wet as well.</p><p>“It’s cold, but it should do the trick.” He said as he walked back to him.</p><p>Marcus just looked up at him, uncertain.</p><p>Baird rolled his eyes at that, then sat down next to him, putting the cloth in front of Marcus’ face.</p><p>“You got dried blood all over you.” His voice was softer, his eyes downcast; maybe it was the first time he’d considered what the earlier tussle had done to Marcus.</p><p>“Yeah.” His lips felt tight with the dried blood, but Marcus hadn’t thought to clean it away on time.</p><p>“Come on.” Baird huffed and pressed the cloth against his chin, lifting an eyebrow when Marcus didn’t make a move to take it. “You want me to do it or something?”</p><p>Marcus just cast a sidelong glance at him, not moving a muscle, just waiting.</p><p>Baird blinked a couple of times at that, but then pushed the cloth again, wiping it over his chin, then the side of his lips, under his nose; more carefully than what Marcus expected.</p><p>He frowned with concentration, folding the cloth until another clean edge appeared, so that he could finish the job.</p><p>“Here you go then.” Pulling his hand away, Baird bunched up the fabric in his hand. His bottom lip was slightly swollen, an angry red nick crossing down the middle of it.</p><p>He looked strangely endearing like that, more rough around the edges that Marcus was used to seeing him.</p><p>“I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard, I went over the line.” Baird said quickly, shuffling his knees to the side. “I don’t know what exactly was it, but it was too much, I get it. It’s just, those guys really had me—“</p><p>“It’s ok, Baird.” Marcus interrupted him, surprised enough to hear him apologizing to begin with. “Let’s just forget about it.”</p><p>“Not even gonna let me say thanks for stopping them from turning me into a Baird patty?”</p><p>Marcus groaned slightly as Baird elbowed him jokingly, since he got the side of his ribs which had taken the most of that pipe hit earlier.</p><p>“Ah fuck, sorry.” Baird did notice however, and pulled away, though not before grabbing the at the edge of Marcus’ jacket, inspecting the fabric. “They didn’t stab you, right? Cause I won’t put it past you to walk a few miles before admitting that.”</p><p>“No, they didn’t.” A small chuckle escaped Marcus’ throat, and he realized he actually found Baird’s almost mock-offence reaction funny. “I’m just gonna be sore for a while. As will you.”</p><p>Nodding his head at Baird’s face, he knew those bruises would be visible a mile away in daylight. It made him feel guilty again, for having added to them.</p><p>“I’ll be fine. Not my first rodeo and all.” Baird rested his elbows on his legs, and inspected his hands, frowning at the few scrapes over his knuckles. “I got drunk and said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Didn’t mean for things to turn ugly though.”</p><p>“Do you ever?” Marcus had noticed that Baird ran his mouth at everyone, including Cole, who said it was just his way of showing affection. He had found that hard to believe, since Baird didn’t really seem to get along with many people.</p><p>Though who was he to judge. Aside from Delta, he’d hardly spoken with anyone since he got back to active duty.</p><p>“Believe it or not, yeah.” Baird shook his head, though his shoulders remained tense. “I flirted with one of those knobheads. That’ll teach me to stay off the moonshine, right?”</p><p>Marcus took a moment to process Baird’s words, disbelief filling his thoughts.</p><p>So he and Baird did have more in common than he’d let himself think after all.</p><p>“I’d say you have a bad taste, but that’s kind of obvious now, isn’t it.” He finally said, allowing himself a small smile. He hadn’t really paid much attention to how the guys in the alley had looked like, aside from the quick assessment of: big, burly, gears.</p><p>But Baird was probably berating himself for the confession already, and he wanted to somehow let him know it was ok.</p><p>“Marcus Fenix, you—“ Baird actually laughed at that, his breath coming in wheezy chuckles. Wiping away at the corners of his eyes, he took a deep breath, looking at him with a grin. “Unbelievable.”</p><p>“Hardly.” He lifted a shoulder lightly, realizing it had been a long time since he’d told this much about himself to anyone. Even if in a roundabout way.</p><p>“So if I got this right, the COG’s famed war hero is—“ Baird didn’t finish however, and sighed, bumping his knee against Marcus’ leg. “Ok got it now, we’re not saying the H word.”</p><p>They lapsed into a semi-comfortable silence, nothing but the low sound of the wind all around for a long moment.</p><p>“I’m usually more careful, but I guess… I…” Putting his hands in his pockets again, Baird looked up at him. “When you allow yourself to think the world might not be as messed up as you are for a moment, it always comes back to bite you in the ass, doesn’t it.”</p><p>“Yeah…” Marcus knew that all too well.</p><p>And there it was again, that look. He was almost certain Baird didn’t even do it on purpose.</p><p>It was just in the way he held himself, braced against the world. In your face. Endearing.</p><p>A little sad, the lines in the corners of his eyes more prominent than his years would suggest.</p><p>Marcus found his gaze returning to Baird’s lips again, as if on its own. Without thinking, he leaned forward slightly, until he felt their shoulders pressing together.</p><p>Baird looked at him almost startled, but didn’t pull away.</p><p>Glancing down again, Marcus closed the small space between them, kissing him softly, mindful not to make his cut bleed again.</p><p>Heat coiled in his gut at the simple sensation of lips against his own, the fading scent of Baird’s aftershave, the hand he rested on the nape of Marcus’ neck. His palm was cold, sending a shiver down his spine; but Marcus pulled him in closer, arms wrapping around his waist.</p><p>He was warm, where Marcus’ hands rested over the worn fabric of his jacket, so very warm despite the winter chill.</p><p>Their lips parted but met again in a second, this time Baird seeking the point of contact, his nose bumping against Marcus’ as their faces fit against one other better.</p><p>“Someone could see.” Finally, Baird breathed out, resting his forehead against Marcus’ own. “We should go.”</p><p>But his hand was on Marcus’ face next, thumb running down his cheekbone, seemingly unwilling to drop the point of contact between them.</p><p> “We should.” He didn’t let go either, his hands encircling Baird’s waist, fingers bunching up in his jacket.</p><p>“Oh Marcus…” Baird chuckled as he let his head drop against Marcus’ shoulder. “We’re a pair of fools, you know that.”</p><p>“I know.” He muttered out, looking into the darkness which spawned beyond the reach of the candlelight. A few stars glimmered brightly onto the sky, sharp in the crisp night air. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“You wanted to see me.”</p><p>Marcus heard a loud clang, followed by a swear coming from underneath the APC.</p><p>Putting his arms on his waist, he waited until Baird came out, the wheels on the board he was laying on squeaking over the concrete.</p><p>He had the same blue overalls he’d worn months ago, back when he’d first come to Marcus’ room. Only the grease stains on them seem to have multiplied.</p><p>“I’d say knock first, but that probably wouldn’t have helped either.” Huffing, Baird sat up and put his goggles back on his forehead.</p><p>He had a white band aid on his nose, and a couple of dark smears on his cheek – but his hair was protected by a faded red paisley-pattern bandana.</p><p>Marcus noticed all that, because he was allowed to look at Baird’s face now, for as long as he might want to. Especially when no one else was around.</p><p>And Baird seemed to figure it out too, since he looked to the side when Marcus didn’t say anything to his earlier quip, seeing that they were alone.</p><p>“Shit, didn’t realize it got so late.” Stifling out a yawn as he glanced to the large clock on the wall, he got up and dusted his hands on his hips. “Cole told me you got hit today.”</p><p>“Just a nick.” Shrugging one shoulder absentmindedly, Marcus didn’t move from his spot. “Is this why you called me here?”</p><p>“He said there was a lot of blood.” Frowning, Baird stepped closer, eyeing him up and down until he seemed to notice the edge of the bandage showing underneath the rolled up sleeve of Marcus’ henley shirt. “Who patched it up?”</p><p>“The Gorasni doc you told me about.” Marcus tugged his sleeve up a bit, giving Baird a clear view of the pristine gauze. “He did a good job.”</p><p>“Good.” Baird seemed to mirror his words, reaching to his arm – his fingers barely grazed the skin of his bicep before he pulled back, clearing his throat. “So, how did it happen?”</p><p>“A ricochet. Tore through the sleeve and slid right underneath the armor.” It was his dominant arm, but thankfully he’d had no trouble moving it for as long as it had taken to finish off the firefight. “Stung like something wicked, but it’s not deep. Doc said it should heal without problems.”</p><p>“Sounds like you got lucky then.” Leaning back on the APC, Baird sighed and took the bottle of water that was resting on the hood, before taking a long drink of it.</p><p>Silence fell over them both, and Marcus knew they were avoiding the actual topic of the day.</p><p>The Locust were back.</p><p>It hadn’t taken all that long since the Lightmass Offensive, and Hoffman’s grand plan had turned to a grand disappointment.</p><p>Marcus wished to say that was something new, but everyone knew better by now.</p><p>He had been somewhat skeptical of it ever since he’d heard it, so shortly after setting foot out of the Slab – but back then, he’d done what he’d been ordered to. They all had. Despite the multiple setbacks along the way.</p><p>The cost had been the lives of many gears, and nearly their own. </p><p>But it was back to the drawing board now. CIC had already issued the changes in the patrol routes, zone red curfew had been established – it meant nothing was open after sundown, and nobody was meant to step outside once it got dark. Gears had orders to shoot on sight.</p><p>So far, the Kryll had failed to make an appearance, but everyone held their breath regardless.</p><p>Marcus even had the dreadful creatures filling a couple of his nightmares, which had made him wake with a start, until he’d begrudgingly started sleeping with the bedside light on.</p><p>The world truly had gone to shit while he was in the slammer, not that it hadn’t been sliding steadily down that road before, but the ravenous flocks spawning out from the Hollow had definitely taken the spotlight.</p><p>Yet the pain had taken his mind off those kind of thoughts today, and after he’d gotten out of the doctor’s office, all of it had instead been replaced by a sense of anticipation – when Cole had told him to go to the motorpool later, all he’d been able to think of was Baird.</p><p>Had he been worried about him, or was it something a lot more mundane that had made him ask for Marcus to come? Now he seemed to have his answer, and that made his stomach tie up a bit.</p><p>“Mess hall’s closed by the way, if you haven’t had your dinner yet.” He finally said, wondering how long had Baird actually spent underneath that APC, since he was the only mechanic still around.</p><p>“Fat luck, huh.” Cleaning up his hands with a rag, Baird tossed it on the work bench nearby, before cracking his back left to right. “Been working on this damn thing all day, and that’s how the COG repays me…”</p><p>“Maybe there’s something…” Marcus stopped mid-sentence when Baird shook his head.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, I have a back-up plan.” That half-smile he knew so well was back on the engineer’s face, as he beckoned for Marcus to follow him. “Might as well show you my secret spot, since we’re all alone.”</p><p>“That sounds cozy.” His tone was heavy with irony, but he still stepped after Baird leisurely. Not like he had any better place to be, right?</p><p>“Hey, don’t throw it till you know it and all that.” Baird grabbed something that looked like a lift control box from where it was hanging on a hook on the wall, a thick cable running from it towards the high ceiling.</p><p>The building had been built in the monolith style so favored by the late, military-focused COG architects – which meant the motorpool was large enough to accommodate a plane, and the arched, steel and glass roof spanned nearly two stories high above the ground.</p><p>However, with the lack of any bird bigger than a Raven, the hangar-like building was lit a lot more sparsely and efficiently, by lights sneaking over the walls a bit higher than an average man’s height. It left the ceiling shrouded in darkness, especially now that the night had already fallen. During the day, the sunlight would stream through the thick glass panels, but without moonlight, it was like looking at an inkblot.</p><p>Loud whirling sound followed soon after, and Marcus watched something like a rudimentary elevator descend the metal railing running vertically to the wall. It rattled to a stop as it reached the ground, and Baird stepped on it, grabbing at the chain holding one side of it with his free hand.</p><p>“Hop on then.” He said, beckoning at Marcus with the bulky control system in his other hand. “Just make sure to hold onto something, I’ve never tried to bring another person up and we might be a bit off balance.”</p><p>“That is reassuring.” Still, he got onto the platform with a huff, though not without following Baird’s advice – wrapping his uninjured arm around the other chain, and his feet spread slightly so that he could find his equilibrium if the thing decided to move in any unexpected way.</p><p>“Hey, I built it, so it’ll hold.” Grinning, Baird pressed the button on the controller, and the lift began ascending. “But not making it perfect means others are less tempted to use it when I’m not here.”</p><p>“So you’ve made yourself a crib…” Marcus honestly wasn’t too sure what to say. Part of him was vaguely reminded of the tree house he and Carlos had when they were kids – and those were some fond memories, even with the pang of pain that passed through his chest as he recalled the carefree hours they’d spent there together.</p><p>The very concept of the army opposed solitude, opposed the idea of private space; and yet Baird seemed to have carved himself one, on what appeared to be an old crane platform, likely unused in the past ten years, since no plane had passed through this building in at least that long. As the lift came to a halt next to the platform, he could see a thin mattress, as well as some blankets, sheets and a pillow.</p><p>A small radio, a stack of books next to an old suitcase – he didn’t know what was in it, but it appeared to serve as a low bedside table. A notebook and a pencil were laid on it, as well as a round mechanical <em>something, </em>wires sticking out of it and all. Marcus didn’t have the faintest clue as to what it was.</p><p>“It’s not much, but wait just a bit…” Attaching the control box on the metal railing which ran around the crane platform, Baird flipped a switch, and the faint lights coming from “downstairs” quickly went off, one after the other.</p><p>A sense of weightlessness surrounded them, and Marcus momentarily felt like he was out at sea again, despite the metal beneath his feet. He could <em>feel </em>the vast space all around them, but without seeing it, his senses were playing tricks on him.</p><p>Baird walked over the platform, and crouched down next to the suitcase, and then there was light again.</p><p>Warm orange hues outlined his figure, the bedside lamp’s light so much softer than the industrial white glow that had filled the motorpool before.</p><p>Hand following the rail as to steady himself, Marcus stepped form the lift and over to the platform as well. Baird turned as he heard him come over, and looked up, smiling.</p><p>“I also got some food and drink here, for emergencies you know. Such as now. So I’d be good with sleeping here tonight.” Sitting down, Baird toed out his work shoes, before patting the thin mattress. “Feel free to sit here, since there’s no chairs and all. I gotta get out of this grease-soaked thing first.”</p><p>Without a word, Marcus sat on the bed, stretching his legs out.</p><p>It was the first time they’d been alone together since that night at the graveyard. He could feel his heartbeat quickening, and chuckled soundlessly at his own reaction.</p><p>It was like he was a teenager again, getting excited from the smallest thing. Baird probably didn’t even realize the kind of thoughts that were passing through his head right about now, especially not while Marcus watched him get out of his overalls.</p><p>He wore a white tanktop underneath them, and a pair of long grey sweatpants. Even revealing just that as he unbuttoned the coarse blue fabric, made Marcus’ eyes follow the movement of his hands, the dance of his muscled arms as he shrugged the clothing away.</p><p>Finally, he undid the red bandana, dropping in next to the briefcase, and lo and behold – the goggles followed.</p><p>That finally made Marcus snort, and he put his hand over his mouth as Baird sharply turned his head at him.</p><p>“What?” He said in confusion, though Marcus just shook his head, trying to take in a breath.</p><p>“Sorry, it’s just –I think – I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you without those on.” He pointed at the direction of the goggles with his chin. Somehow, the realization had seemed momentarily hilarious.</p><p>“Oh really? Says Mr. Broody Pirate man.” Baird leaned over and poked at Marcus’ temple with a finger. “I saw you come out of the showers with this on the other day. The fuck.”</p><p>His smile fading, Marcus reached up, feeling the edge of the bandana.</p><p>“Yeah…” Without thinking, he pulled it off with a single move, bunching up the fabric in his hand. He’d have it on first thing in the morning, the same way he had in the past seventeen years of being a Gear. There was only one reason he’d stop wearing it, and it seemed less and less likely to happen.</p><p>The end of the war.</p><p>He saw Baird’s hand with the corner of his eye, but had been too distracted, his eyes downward at his clenched fist to notice earlier: until he felt the fingers running through his hair, gently pushing at one of the short curls that fell over his forehead.</p><p>“Wow.” Baird said simply, keeping his touch a light point of contact between them. His vivid blue eyes not swaying from Marcus’ face. “You’re so beautiful like this.”</p><p>He looked away at that, unable to respond. What could he say anyways?</p><p>Swallowing hard, he found Baird’s hand with his own, and pressed it against his cheek, hoping he could speak to him without words.</p><p>It seemed to work, because he heard the small chuckle which escaped Baird’s lips at that, and felt the thin mattress shift as he sat next to him.</p><p>“You know, part of me likes the thought that others don’t get to see you like this.” Baird’s other hand was on Marcus’ face now as well, making him look up.</p><p>He smelled faintly like machine oil, the same oddly comforting clear scent as when Marcus would clean his Lancer. Was it strange, that he liked it so?</p><p>“But I do need to ask. Am I threading on someone else’s territory here?”</p><p>Marcus was confused, but after along moment, it dawned on him.</p><p>“You mean Anya?” He said with a low voice. “We’re not – I love her, yes. As a sister. As a friend. But she’s like us.”</p><p>Running his thumb over the back of Baird’s palm, he searched for the spark of understanding in his eyes.</p><p>“You know…” Shrugging his shoulders slightly, he sighed. “It was safer for us both if everyone thought we’re together like that.”</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>.” Realization flashed over Baird’s features, fading the frown that was etched between his brows. “You mean – ah… Doing that does make sense, actually.”</p><p>“You trust Cole, don’t you? With something like this?” Marcus had recognized the knowing smirk Cole had given him when he’d said Baird wanted to see him, and for a moment he’d been worried about how much he knew.</p><p>“I do, yes, without a doubt.” Nodding, Baird didn’t make a move to drop his hands, instead seemed content with caressing Marcus’ cheek lightly. “Cole’s known about me from around as long as we know each other really.”</p><p>“But he’s not…?” Marcus had to ask. Cole seemed to care a lot about Baird, but he and Dom probably looked no different from the outside perspective too.</p><p>“No, not really. Or at least not for me, from what I know.” Baird shrugged. “We’re friends. Brothers-in-arms. Do I ask about Dom?”</p><p>“Brothers-in-arms.” Marcus repeated. “Well Anya’s a friend I trust just as much. So you don’t have to worry about her.”</p><p>“Okay, so we covered up that ground.” Baird nodded, his gaze dropping slightly, seemingly focused on Marcus’ lips. Then he looked up again, and came a bit closer. “No one will bother us here. Crane has only one control panel, and it’s on the platform.”</p><p>“Mmmh…” Smirking lightly, Marcus put a hand on Baird’s jaw, his thumb caressing the old scar on his chin, before catching at his bottom lip. The nick he’d gotten from the fight a week ago was all but healed now and his soft lips seemed so inviting, the warm, smooth feeling of them still fresh in Marcus’ memory.</p><p>So when Baird moved closer and kissed him, he welcomed it, pressing back against him just as eagerly. There was hunger inside Marcus that had been dwelling around for a long time, and had only grown stronger since the night they’d first kissed.</p><p>A twinge of pain passed through his injured arm, but he paid it no mind, and caressed Baird’s back, the warmth of his skin passing through his tanktop, until Marcus sneaked a hand underneath it, desperate to touch more of him as he pulled him flush against himself.</p><p>It earned him a low moan, but it was obvious that Baird had tried to keep quiet just in case, since they could never be too careful, especially in a place such as that.</p><p>But his arms remained wrapped around Marcus in turn, his hand gripping his hair as their kiss deepened.</p><p>Almost gradually, Marcus realized they’d leaned down, and it wasn’t difficult to lay over Baird completely, pressing him against the thin mattress.</p><p>Their legs slotted between each other, and he took a deep breath before chasing after Baird’s lips again as they moved against one another, sharing body heat despite their clothing.</p><p>The motorpool was kind of cold, but Marcus surely no longer felt it.</p><p>He caressed Baird’s flank as their kisses found a bit more leisured pace, allowing them to explore each other better. Marcus’s lips swayed for a moment, tracing a path down Baird’s neck, feeling the slight stubble that scratched against his skin – the sensation seemed to send a pang of want through his core. He groaned lowly, before pressing another open-mouthed kiss against Baird’s throat, feeling him shiver slightly in response.</p><p>The skin of Baird’s hands was rough with work, callouses that had not faded even with the months that he’d spent more or less away from combat. That touch alone was enough to light a trail of fire in Marcus, who leaned on an elbow and took off his shirt in one quick motion, allowing Baird to touch more of him, which he quickly did, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.</p><p>Faint redness spawned over his cheeks, and he teased his bottom lip with his teeth, apparently realizing that Marcus’s staring meant he liked what he saw.</p><p>“I think it’ll be hard to look at you and not think of this from now on.” Baird said, as his hand traced over Marcus’ shoulder, his pecs, to the grove that ran down his torso and then to his side, his back again, until Marcus brought their lips together, sealing the space between them.</p><p>“It’s all I’ve been able to think about five minutes after we first met.” He said as he pulled away slightly, noting that his voice had dropped even lower, nearly a raspy whisper that he accentuated with a roll of his hips, grinding the unmistakable sign of his arousal against Baird.</p><p>“Fuck…” Baird cursed quietly at that, grabbing at his ass through the thick material of his pants, his hips canting upwards. “All that time I thought I’d just pissed you off too much. It’s like you were trying to burn a hole through me with that look.”</p><p>Resting his forehead against Baird’s clavicle, Marcus’ stifled his laugh, his hand resting against Baird’s thigh.</p><p>“You did piss me off.” Sometimes, monumentally so. In fact, Marcus had almost found it novel that Baird had still found new and new ways to get to him. “So much, that I wanted to bend you over the nearest flat surface until we figured out a common language from there.”</p><p>He said that last bit against Baird’s ear, knowing how rarely he felt bold enough to put something like this into words. But, as it seemed, it was just that something endearing about Baird, which had now done exactly that, dared him to say what he otherwise would not think to.</p><p>“Or, it could’ve been the other way around.” Baird ran his fingers through his hair again, and Marcus could about feel him smirking in that precise moment. “I’m not gonna lie, fixing stuff can be boring sometimes. I think I spent the better part of the day under that APC while thinking about you naked inside of it.”</p><p>“Hmm, gives you some ideas, doesn’t it.” Lifting his head, Marcus cocked a brow at Baird, making sure to run his hand up and down his thigh teasingly. “In fact, gives me several ideas right about now.”</p><p>“We can’t…” Throwing an arm over his eyes, Baird sighed with a small smile. “Sometimes people do come here to work at night, if they can’t sleep or so. And there’s a patrol outside.”</p><p>“It was worth a shot.” Hand coming up to Baird’s waist, he just let himself bask in the ability to touch him so freely, feeling almost starved for the simple physical contact between them, aware of every point in which their bodies pressed together – their thighs, their hips, Baird’s arm around his waist, their chests, his hand on Baird’s flank.</p><p>He realized he could stay like this the whole night and it would still be exhilarating, in fact, right now he wanted this more than he wanted anything else.</p><p>And judging by Baird’s evening breaths, he wasn’t the only one.</p><p>“Come here.” Baird voice was low, a bit above a whisper as he pulled Marcus closer by the waist, his other arm wrapping around his shoulders, welcoming his weight.</p><p>Slowly, Marcus let himself relax against him, realizing that despite the slight difference in their build, he wasn’t about to crush Baird just by resting over him.</p><p>He took a deep breath and just let himself be held, closing his eyes. Resting his head on the pillow next to Baird, and he could feel the exhaustion of the day leaving his bones as his muscles relaxed, finally free from the tension that always kept him alert.</p><p>“That’s it…” Baird sounded calm, his hand falling against the nape of Marcus’ neck. “That’s so nice, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It is.” He said simply, almost overwhelmed in that single moment.</p><p>“I can barely remember the last time I held someone. Or well, he held me.” Baird muttered out after a long moment. “Can’t believe how much I’ve missed it.”</p><p>“Me too.” He remembered, but it was so long ago, that the actual feeling of it had faded, like the scent of a flower carefully preserved between the pages of a book – the memory of its color, its shape was all there, but the essence of it eventually disappeared as the years went on.</p><p>“Stay here tonight?” Hesitation sounded in Baird’s tone, almost as if he feared the question itself could break the tentative moment they shared.</p><p>“I’d like to.” Marcus didn’t even need to think about it, he was certain he wanted to keep Baird close as long as possible, as long as he could. As much as they would be allowed to.</p><p>Maybe if he woke up early, before anyone else came to the motorpool, he’d get to leave unnoticed, away from prying eyes and evil tongues. And Baird surely knew what passed for routine around here, so he’d tell him the right moment for it.</p><p>Either way, It was worth the risk.   </p><p>Glancing to the side, Marcus could see the how close to the roof they were. A few clouds obscured the night sky, and he felt that sense of detachment again, the memory of the sea.</p><p>It wasn’t hard to imagine why Baird had made himself a spot here, it felt so far away from everything and everyone else, almost as if they were on another planet. As if the rest of the world didn’t exist, at least not until the morning, and all of its pain and discontent were distant and nothing more than a bad dream.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Fin.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You know, this fic was meant to be a PWP.<br/>Now you see how that went lmao. </p><p>I promise you a sexy APC time between those two one day, likely in a separate fic. </p><p>I hope you enjoyed this little story, I think keeping it brief suits it. I'll probably write other early-era Marcus/Baird fic though, don't worry.<br/>I'm forever enamored with them and get ideas especially whenever I replay the original trilogy.</p>
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